Truly the world was filled with love that evening, with love human and divine, simple in nature and mighty in strength, one and the other most natural and right; so intermingled that the beseeching of heavenly favour upon dear ones was scarcely more than the expression of an earthly affection, while the artless love songs were chanted with solemnity of voice and exaltation of spirit fit for addresses to another world.
..

Je voudrais que la rose Fut encore au rosier, Et que le rosier meme A la mer fut jete.
Il y a longtemps, que je t'aime, Jamais je ne t'oublierai.

.
"Hail Mary, full of grace ..." The song ended, Maria forthwith resumed her prayers with zeal refreshed, and once again the tale of the Aves mounted.
Little Alma Rose, asleep on her father's knee, was undressed and put to bed; Telesphore followed; Tit'Be arose in turn, stretched himself, and fined the stove with green birch logs; the father made a last trip to the stable and came back running, saying that the cold was increasing.

Soon all had retired, save Maria.
"You won't forget to put out the lamp ?" "No, father." Forthwith she quenched the light, preferring it so, and seated herself again by the window to repeat the last Aves.

When she had finished, a scruple assailed her, and a fear lest she had erred in the reckoning, because it had not always been possible to count the beads of her rosary.