Oh! what a dreadful thing it was, when wishing to do good to the child she so tenderly loved, she was forced to make her suffer so intensely.

She was exhausted, and rose up hastily, surprised that daylight had come.
The little cry of the birds had increased in every direction, although as yet none were to be seen in flight.

In the sky the clouds, delicate as gauze, seemed to float away in the limpid blueness of the atmosphere.
Then Angelique, whose look had mechanically fallen upon her wild rose-bush, at last noticed it with its puny leaves.

She smiled sadly as she said: "You were right, mother dear; it will never be in blossom." At seven o'clock in the morning Angelique was at her work as usual.

The days followed each other, and every forenoon found her seated before the chasuble she had left on the previous evening.